Battle of the Soulmates

Sorry! I got so messed up in the rush we call the holidays that I totally forgot what day it was! Hope you all have had a great holiday and got some cool gifts. Here's my present to you! Part of a story I've been working on recently! Also, I have no idea what to call this, so sorry for the crappy title. Adriel perched on the edge of her seat, sitting opposite the woman Cadriel had called 'Alexia'. The young spell caster looked so much more at ease with Cadriel seated beside her, the barest shake in her hands as she lifted her coffee from the table to her ruby red lips. Adriel could feel Zackary's gaze boring into the back of her skull, reminding her that she had no possible escape route from the conversation she now regretted agreeing to. Marcellus sat to her right, his legs pressed gently against hers as a silent sign of support. Still, she felt boxed in, Adriel had always hated being trapped, and her time in hell had only reinforced her feelings. Cadriel knew this, the slight upturn of his lips when she glanced his way proved it was intentional, he wanted the fallen as uncomfortable as both he and his young charge were. Adriel felt her eyes drawn to Cadriel as Alexia spoke of her reappearance in a continual nightmare. Surprised to find she could read the angels emotions as easily as she could before. The cold hard look in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched and his fingers twisted around the silver coloured soul band on his finger. Alexia also seemed to be able to sense her lover's anger and unease, her hand resting on his upper thigh beneath the table. Cadriel's hands balled into fists as Adriel spoke softly, silently restraining himself from picking up his charge and whisking her away. A nudge of Adriel's leg drew her back into the conversation. The young spell caster had waves of dark purple electricity sparks rolling down her arm. Purple eyes flickering between her lover and Adriel distractingly, sensing that there was more than they were both letting on. Clever girl, Adriel smirked, flicking her black hair over her shoulder, tongue wetting her lips ever so slightly before she spoke. "I think your subconscious is trying to tell you something little witch, you should listen to your bodyguards." Adriel tried to stand, but firm hands on her shoulders pushed her right back down into her seat, holding her there as she tried to squirm free. "She's our weaver Adriel," Zackary whispered, his lips ghosting across the top of her head as his thumbs brushed against her shoulder blades, his restraining touch turning gentle, almost soothing, reminding Adriel of what she already knew, it was impossible to forget, far too easy to see her lovers features in the woman before her. His strong jawline and oval shaped face. Their daughter had her subtle cheekbones, and the way her eyes narrowed when she glared... it was too easy to care for the girl she should never have let out of her sights. "A weaver? No wonder you've got the best protection on offer." Adriel leant back, head against Zackary's upper torso as she smirked, pretending not to care. "But still, you're scared, why little witch?" Adriel tapped a finger to her nose, pretending to think. Zackary chuckled, starting to massage her shoulders absentmindedly - a habit of her lovers. Marcellus' leg nudged hers harshly, shaking his long blonde locks slightly when she glanced at him. "Adriel." Cadriel growled at her, glaring before he stood, a hand on Alexia's arm pulling her to her feet, "this conversation is over. Alexia, this is foolishness." Alexia protested, unable to free her arm from his grasp, her powers doing nothing to halt his actions. Zackary's hands kept Adriel seated as the older woman growled instincts screaming at her to separate her ex-lover and her daughter. "Caiden." Four voices chorused, Adriel forcing her mouth to form the unfamiliar name so as not to blow his cover with the young witch. Cadriel's gaze flickered around the group, resting on Alexia. The look she was giving him was one Adriel really didn't want to recognise, one she knew the warrior angel would cave too. The same one she had always used to get her way when they were still together. "No. It's not safe, she's not to be trusted." Adriel couldn't help the stab of pain at the way he spat the words about her. Zackary's hands tightened, his lips pressing to the top of her head, fighting the urge to defend her, Adriel moved one of her hands to rest over his, they had to pick their battles wisely with the warrior angel, this was not worth it. "Why not? She was there, you weren't!" Alexia finally managed to tear her arm free, snapping words meant to hurt the male. She took a step back, eyes blazing purple as electricity arched off her skin. Sizzling and crackling through the air around her. Cadriel instinctively tensed, every muscle in his body preparing for a fight, be it physical or verbal. "Damn it, Alexia." The words fell from his lips with a tired sigh, his hand running through his hair as he tried to buy himself time. Tried to calm down enough to think rationally, find the words to say. "Cadriel and I were lovers, over two thousand years ago, I betrayed him and broke his heart. He is correct not to trust me, and you would be foolish to ignore him." The words fell from Adriel's lips before she even felt the desire to speak them. Cadriel looked to her, neon blue eyes flashing once furiously, a warning that the fallen had overstepped her bounds. "But Zac is your lover now, is he not?" The weaver's eyes never moved to her, never left the warrior in front of her. The man she clearly adored. Cadriel however, did not afford her the same courtesy, his eyes flicking between Adriel and the man at her back, his jaw tightened, teeth crunching against each other, fists once again balled at his sides, trying to read what his young charge saw all so clearly. Adriel nearly laughed, he had never been good at reading other people. "It does not matter. Cadriel is, to use human terms, my ex-husband." Adriel dismissed the topic quickly, hoping to avoid the warrior's anger, she had caused him enough pain for a lifetime. That caught the young weavers attention. The electricity sparking off of her body seemed to hum once, before cutting out altogether. "Oh, I see." Purple eyes flickered to the soul band on his left ring finger, before they reverted to the crystal blue Adriel saw whenever she happened upon her own reflection in the mirror. "Marc, can you accompany me to practice? My team will be waiting." Cadriel reached for Alexia as she spoke softly, but she flinched away from him. His skin dancing under the light of dozens small purple sparks that flew from her arm as his fingers brushed past her. She walked away without waiting for a reply. Marcellus stood, resting a hand on Adriel's arm, and levelling a glare at Cadriel before he followed the young weaver. "I said to say nothing." Cadriel hurt turned to anger the second the red sports car peeled out of the car park. "She could tell Cadriel! What did you wish of me? Should I have lied to her the way you lied to me!?" Adriel pushed Zackary's hands from her shoulder, standing as she confronted the warrior angel. "I was following orders!" Cadriel took a deep breath. "I have to explain this to her." His hand ran through his hair as his mind ran a mile a minute, running scenarios, calculating the optimum words to say to ensure the best result. "Let me talk to her." Adriel threw the brakes on his trains of thoughts, screeching them to a stop, his eyes were full of mistrust and anger as they flickered to her. "So you can make it worse!?" He demanded, eyes flickering to Zackary behind her just the once as if the other male held the answers he sought. "I am no longer bound by the same rules you are Cadriel, allow me to explain this to her. It was I who caused this mess, and it is I who should fix it." Cadriel held her soft gaze, his natural neon blue slowly flicking through the golden hazel. Adriel shied away, leaning towards her lover. Cadriel's stare had always seemed to be able to search the very depth of her soul, it was unnerving. Zackary's arm wrapped around her waist, holding her to his chest. "She will cause Alexia no harm Caiden," Zackary spoke in her defence, his fingers drawing circles on her hip. Adriel turned her face into her lover's chest to hide her smile. He had never been able to keep his fingers unoccupied. Forever playing with whatever his digits fell upon. "You can't possibly assure me this." Adriel could feel Cadriel's glare drilling into the back of her head before the older angel turned and took a step away. Adriel felt Zackary tense up slightly and immediately flicked her head back around to face Cadriel. He was frozen mid-step, head tilted softly to the side, deep in thought. "A weaver is the product of Angelic and Demonic Soul Mates procreating. While I do not believe in such moronic fantasies, the logic behind the child's origin is sound. Are you telling me that Alexia is your daughter Adriel? That you have broken the vows of a marriage we have not yet terminated?" He turned back around, facing the pair as he spoke "Caiden-" Zackary started trying to defend is actions. "I am fallen, is that not termination enough?" Adriel cut him off, stepping away from him and towards Cadriel. "Not according to the band that has remained around my finger and heavy on my heart." Cadriel waved his left hand in her face, showing her the silver soul band as he fought to remain in control of his temper. "I have remained faithful and honest, bound by the vows I made to you, and you-" "Cadriel. I release you from your bonds as you have me from mine. I no longer require your love, affection, or protection, as I have found my soul mate. I wish you the best of luck in finding your own, I shall remain your best friend and closest ally. I vow to care for our son, to guide and protect him, and raise him with the honours and values of his father, in line with those of heaven, and our holy creator." Adriel rested her hand over his as she spoke the words he needed to hear. The band around his finger dispersed, the fight from his body fleeing. He crumbled forward against her, and she only held her. Adriel could feel her lover shifting uncomfortably behind her, not entirely sure about what was going on. “I do not understand why heaven did not see it fit to terminate our marriage when you fell, no one would answer my questions.” Cadriel murmured, standing once more, eyes locked on his ring finger. “And I am sorry Cadriel, if I had known our marriage still linked us I would have sought you out and terminated it a long time ago, now, please. Let me speak to my daughter and clear this all up before something happens that we will both regret.” Zackary’s fingers brushed against her back, stepping forward slightly until both Cadriel and Adriel were watching him, Cadriel’s eyes flickering nervously to the phone sitting in his palm. “Marc just sent a message... Cadriel she’s gone.” 

Glimpse into the past.

Heya Everyone, sorry it’s late, I was moving things yesterday, forgot to write a blog post and was way too tired to do it once I had finished.

Anyway! Wishing you a very Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Ramadan Mubarak, and Kwanzaa. Happy holidays! (I’m sorry if I missed anything or said one of the above wrong. Please let me know so I can fix it and do better next time!).

Three years, he had been gone for three years, and that was all he could think about as he stared out one of the small oval windows in the train. His unseeing eyes watching nothing but trees and grass fly by, trying to ignore the way his mind twisted it to run red with blood, lifeless bodies and the smell of gunpowder filling the air.

No, instead he forced himself to think of home, how his brother would both look and act. They had spoken throughout the war, letters penned when there was little to do but wait for orders, but it was not the same as being there. Letters could not hope to bring his brother’s smile to the forefront of his mind, replace the horrors that lay there with the joy his brother never failed to bring. Letters failed to remind him what life back home was like when all he had was faded memories of a time when only his brother looked up to him and blood did not stain his hands.

He had promised the crying young boy that he would always be there, reassuring him as he watched servants prepare his mother’s body for burial, shielding his young brother from the same horror he couldn’t bear to lift his eyes from. The war had forced him to break his promise, leave his brother at his father’s mercy as he did the dutiful thing by his town and family, leaving to go and fight against the north, to protect his home.

At first, he had argued that he was doing it to protect his brother, he cared little for the man he was forced to call father, and was certainly not fighting to protect him. Someone from the family name had to go, it was only fair that it was he who sacrificed everything.

But more than his little brother, he was wondering if she was still there, the woman he had started courting before the war broke out. She had promised to wait for him, years filled with letters of longing, sweet words that couldn’t wash away the pain of being apart, but seemed to help soothe the wound.

She had promised to write to him every day, and it had been a promise she had kept, her letters brief as she failed to find words to say as the days became years, but they were there all the same. A huge pile of paper that he was relentlessly teased about as the mail was delivered. In turn, he kept his replies light, refusing to talk about the horrors of war in favour of asking about home and her. She didn’t need to imagine what hell looked like, not if he could protect her from it.

Even he knew that three years was a long time, already she was past marrying age, and despite not having a male to care for her she knew that as well, waiting for him to return would be foolishness. She was a beautiful young noblewoman, with long auburn hair, that rolled down her back in an untameable mix of waves and loose curls. Eyes of emerald green that always seemed to sparkle like the gemstones that adorned her person. A smile on her full red lips that always seemed to twist up into her eyes whenever they settled on him.

She carried herself with the grace of a noble lady, every eye in the room turning to her no matter what event she stepped into, a smile on her lips as she charmed everyone who dared to cross her path. Tales of her family falling from her lips when prompted, and the reason why she had moved here alone.

He had considered himself lucky when she decided he was worthy of being spoken to. His reputation as a charmer should have scared her off, lest he ruin both her heritage and marriageability with the rumours that had wrapped tightly around him. Yet she had not run, instead seeking him out until he began courting her officially.

She was everything he had longed for since childhood, loving and accepting him no matter what he told her, neither did she believe the lies that fell from his father’s lips as he tried to poison the relationship they were cultivating. He sought comfort in her arms after his father’s beatings. She offered him her home and her heart without question, her servants treating him their master as much as she was their mistress. Never greeting him with a question nor refusal when he showed up on her doorsteps, regardless of whether it was appropriate or not. Even going so far as to treat his little brother like one of her own, looking out for him when he was unable to.

He didn’t truly expect her to be waiting for him, no matter how his heart argued. It had been too long, their relationship too inappropriate to continue once he returned, battered and bruised from the horrors of war. It was too much to ask of her this time.

“Second Lieutenant Sir!” He was shaken from his daze by one of the train’s staff, already standing at salute as he spoke. “This is your stop sir, welcome home.”

“Thank you.” He stood, straightening his uniform and collecting his bag, joining the small line that formed to wish their friends goodbye before stepping off the train and beginning the long trek to the surrounding towns that they all called home.

He didn’t know why he glanced around the station, searching for a familiar face. No one knew he was coming home, it had been a last minute opportunity that he’d jumped at when one of the other men found themselves unable to return to their own home. Still, he spared a moment to look before shouldering his bag and making his way towards the local tavern. He was certain someone there would be heading towards or past his home town that would be more than happy to give a soldier a lift.

“Excuse me, Sir. My name is Christopher Blake, Miss Mikaelson sent me to fetch you.” His path was blocked by a young man, stopping him with his cap in his hand as he spoke. His heart leapt at the name that fell from his lips, Miss Mikaelson, his beloved.

“I am sorry, you must have me mistaken for someone else, no one knew I was returning.” He turned slightly, glancing around before returning his attention to the man before him. He did not recognise him, which seemed odd considering that before he had left he knew all of Sofia’s servants by name.

“No sir, My Mistress sent me to wait here until you returned. I have been waiting for nearly three years now. She wished to be certain you would have a way home upon your return as she feared your father would not be so kind. It has been my honour to wait this long for you, and it would have been my honour to wait longer if that is what was required of me. Please, may I take your bag? I have a horse and carriage standing nearby if you are ready to depart, or I am more than happy to wait if there are some business matters you wish to-”

“No need, I am more than ready to return home.” He interrupted, handing over his bag to the young man and motioning for him to lead the way.

“Of course sir.”

Wandering and Lost

So I was watching my friend play a video game the other day, and I was fascinated by the ruins that were in the middle of nowhere. This is what came of that. Warning: it is a little on the morbid side, sorry. Nothing too graphic, though.

It was a mistake, mostly on my behalf, but the blame squarely rested on the broad shoulders of our tour guide. The local man who had assured us he knew the way to the ruins in the desert. My family and I had decided to seek out ruins we’d heard about as we told our family and friends about our trip. Ones that were looked over by tourists in favour of places closer to the city and more convenient for themselves. I hadn’t been looking for convenient, I wanted fun, excitement and adventures, something to tell people about when we returned to the safety and comfort of home.

We'd driven until we were close, the sand clogging up the wheels of our jeep until it couldn't move any further without being swallowed whole. Our guide had assured that it wasn't that far, just over that sand dune. So we packed our bags and left the car.

Except the ruins weren't just over that ridge, nor the dune after that, and the tour guide got so confused and lost that we couldn't find the jeep. Nothing differentiating one sand dune from the next, the light breeze covering our footsteps as soon as they were made.

The few supplies we decided to grab ran out quickly, the smart idea to ration the few bottles of water we had failed the moment the first hints of dehydration started to blur at our vision. Hours of exhaustion following as we walked up that ‘one more’ dune, over that ‘one more’ ridge, practically falling down just ‘one more’ hill.

Our guide was the first to go, disappearing over a ridge as he chased a mirage of our jeep. Despite being a local he made the fool mistake of believing his eyes and disbelieving those around him. He moved faster than we could keep up, our yells failing to fall upon his ears.

Night fell, and we huddled together for warmth, knowing just how low the temperature could drop to within the depth of the desert, but not dressed warmly enough to deal with it ourselves. Prepared more for the overwhelming heat of the desert rather than the freezing ice that penetrated through our clothes and skin, seeming to freeze that which was meant to keep us warm.

I picked a nice ridge to gather everyone on top of, huddling up as we made a game out of drawing pictures in the stars, all trying to identify constellations as they blinked to life above us. It was beautiful, the crystal clearness of the sky, stars twinkling above us as we slipped into sleep despite trying not to.

I was the only one that woke.

Tears slipped from my eyes, stinging as they rolled over my dry and cracked lips as I checked for a pulse before burying each member of my family side by side. My arms lifting them, cradling them close to my chest before I laid them gently to rest in the shallow grave I’d carved out with my bare hands. Fingers tracing the name of each across the top, the grooves of letters slowly starting to fill up as the deserts gentle breeze attempted to comfort me after it took away everything I held dear.

I nearly gave up, laid down beside my partner and let the desert claim me as well, but I knew that wasn’t right. I needed to keep going, to find civilisation and report what had happened, pray I could lead search parties back to my family. Take them home like they deserved.

So I kept going.

Tears mix with the heat lines rising from the same sand that burns my skin wherever it can find a place to contact, sinking into my shoes and blowing across my arms. I keep going, trudging footprints in the sand that today I can actually see stretch behind me, making sure that no matter what I was walking straight ahead, making progress rather than walking around in circles.

Slowly, through my warped sense of vision, something dark starts to loom up before me. A mirage, but I can’t help my body as it starts making it’s way towards what appears to be charred remains of something.

A terrifying roar sounds from the large rectangular shape. It should scare me, but it doesn’t; instead it fills my strides with purpose. I should know better, that it’s simply a trick of my mind, placed there to give me false hope, but I don’t.

It grows before me, the roar mixing with cheers and a ringing of metal crashing upon metal. Until the rectangle shape fills my blurred vision, towering six stories above me, and reaching out as far as I can see. It offers precious shade, and I take it willingly, stumbling forward until its shade completely smothers me, finally giving me a break from the overwhelming heat of the desert.

Another cheer sounds and I turn, I’d never thought a mirage could be so realistic. Curious, my hand trailed along the stone walls as I followed it, actively seeking out what could be making such a noise out here in the middle of nowhere. There are wide gaps at every other interval that could be seen as doors, the crowd’s roars and clanging dramatically increasing in volume as I got closer to them. But they were gated shut, forbidding me entrance as though it would make me give up. It didn’t, instead I get more curious, foregoing the shade offered by the building and once more allowing the blistering sun to attack my already well-burnt face.

Finally, I stumble upon a door that isn’t barred by large metal grates, my feet tripping over each other in my haste to get inside. Noise level rising until it felt like my ear drums would burst to give me just a moment of peace and quiet. Things within the entrance tunnel are dark, one hand held out in front of me as the other ran along the wall, my skin slicing open as it rubs against the coarse stone wall, my eyes unable to adjust to the darkness and make out what's ahead of me.

All of a sudden it gives way to blinding bright light, forcing me to throw my hand in front of my eyes to try and shield them. The cheering only increases in volume as something slowly propels me upwards. My eyes adjusting so I can see what is going on.

I still don’t believe my eyes as I see a packed coliseum before me, crowds cheering and yelling as barely clad warriors fight off tigers and lions, dropping to their knees to duck under attacks that would have left claw marks down their chests.

I’ve done it, found the ruins I had been told about, except they didn’t look so much like ruins anymore.

My gaze drifts over to the crowds, all dressed in togas that I had always imagined Romans would wear as they attended the gatherings. My knees gave way, the never-ending flow of tears down my cheeks falling heavily as I saw who was seated in the royal booth. My family, waving and cheering, leaning over the side of the railings to yell down.

My heart stopped when they looked at me, frowns tugging at their lips before, in unison, they showed their thumbs, all pointing down.

Tarragon's Girl

Heya Everyone, so I was helping Dad with a boat delivery yesterday and saw another yacht with the name 'Tarragon'. A name, that to me, was worthy of a fantasy country, this is what came to mind whilst I was sailing.

A forgotten realm: Prologue:

Tarragon, much like every other realm, had seen more than its fair share of bloodshed. The blood of both its own and foreign (soldiers) soaked through its borders and deep into the ground. Its bloodstained paws reaching further and further forward under the command of its Kings before its fingers were shoved back. Progress halted and forced back by victors stronger than her own.

It was then that Tarragon’s lands truly became a battleground. Kings overthrowing each other as quickly as the wind changed. Rivers flowing red as warriors spilt their blood in the name of their King and Country. They fought to add to their own lands, and Tarragon shrank so others could grow.

It was strange then, she thought, that she could be so easily forgotten. Once tame fields and forests outgrew their boundaries and made her appear as abandoned as she felt. People that had once called her borders home taken as slaves and trophies of war, their descendants thinking Tarragon was a myth, a false hope murmured amongst those snatched from their own lands.

The rest cursed to an endless sleep, waiting for those they loved to return once more.

A myth, that one little girl dared believe in, captivated by the words that fell from lips of those too old to work but too young to be sent to die. Her carers all too eager to spill details of their formerly great homeland.

It was to Tarragons awaiting arms that that young girl snuck. An army at her heels and a dream locked in her mind. That she would be the one to bring Tarragon back from myth and return it once more to the legend that was painted in her mind.

This, is the story of Tarragon’s return to victory. Of the warrior queen and her determination to return her ancestor's homeland to its rumoured glory, and, in doing so, taking it far beyond.

This is the tale, of Tarragon and her girl.